What Never Was
by Kelly Quit Lollygagging
Summary: <html><head></head>Alternate ending to the movie "Inception," co-written & edited by Megan K. What if it was all a dream? The "what if" that never was.</html>


_Scene I_

Room 528 contained patient 491, Dom Cobb, staring blankly at the wall in front of him, the image of a spinning top flickering and fading behind his weary eyelids. Just as Cobb tensed, watching in horrified immobility as the top began to fall, a soft knock permeated the otherwise silent room.

His head snapped up just in time to see his nurse, Ariadne, enter the room with his medicine cup in one hand and water in the other. She offered him a small smile as she closed the door behind her, slowly crossing the room the way she was told to when dealing with Cobb. He was known to have quite the temper, and the last thing she wanted to do was set him off when he already seemed to be in an agitated state.

"Good evening, Cobb," she spoke softly, her eyes flicking over his form, taking in the way his eyes were unseeing. Cobb was not oblivious to her presence, offering a small nod in her direction as his mind began to race with ways to make the phantom top continue to spin.

Unaware of Cobb's growing anxiety, Ariadne took small, calculated steps in Cobb's direction, beginning to extend the medicine cup towards him. The image of the faltering top collapsed in front of Cobb's eyes, much the same way a TV turns off. Cobb groaned in anguish, dropping his head into his hands.

Ariadne paused, her breath hitching in her throat and fingers itching towards the panic button in her pocket.

"Cobb?" she called quietly. "It's time for your medication."

Cobb tensed and his nails - bitten to the quick - dug into his scalp. With a quick, almost imperceptible, flick of his wrist, the medicine scattered across the room, skittering and jumping across the floor.

"I'm not crazy," Cobb spat, pulling his knees up to his chest. "You," he pointed a shaking finger in Ariadne's direction, "and everyone else in this God forsaken place are all just projections of my imagination."

With a sad sigh, Ariadne began her retreat, the disjointed mumbling coming from Cobb nothing she hadn't heard before.

"Why won't you let me die?" he moaned. "I need to die, to see my wife and my kids…my kids…what have you done with my children?"

With an enraged roar, Cobb got to his feet and stalked towards Ariadne, who was hurriedly opening the door. Just as it slammed shut behind her, she heard Cobb hit it angrily with his fists.

"Molly!" he screamed, before all was silent again.

* * *

><p><em>Scene II<em>

The Cobb home was a happy home. Typical family; two children, mother, father in a little ranch on a quiet street. Molly Cobb was in the kitchen tossing small pasta shells with fettuccine sauce and blanching broccoli and pureeing peas with carrots and potatoes for James. She preferred homemade to store-bought baby food and James did too.

"Phillipa," she said softly. "Don't jump on the couch." A shrill "okay" followed before her and Dom's three-year-old daughter skipped into the kitchen and pulled her chin onto the counter.

"What's for dinner Mama?" She asked inquisitively poking her fingers into the bowl of pasta and grabbing a handful. "Snail shells!" Phillipa shouted, and flung the pasta back into the bowl. "James! We eat snails for dinner!" She bolted out of the kitchen.

Molly scolded her for putting her dirty hands into everyone's dinner, but laughed as she ran around the house screaming "snail shells" over and over. She set the table for three, as she had since her husband was committed to the psychiatric hospital, and knew that when Phillipa came in, she would pull another plate from the drawer and put it out for her father.

Dinner was abnormally silent. James didn't fling his vegetable puree across the room, laughing when it stuck to the wall. Phillipa didn't even want to talk about her day at daycare. As Molly was cleaning up, Phillipa asked a painful question.

"Mama, when's daddy coming home?"

Molly tucked a loose strand of hair back into her headband and sighed softly. "I don't know sweetie," she said as she scooped the girl into her arms and pressed her face into the thin blonde hair. "I just don't know."

* * *

><p><em>Scene III<em>

Arthur Wick was, in a word, driven. He graduated from New York University as a medical psychologist and right off the bat was employed as the head of the Beachwood Hospital. Since he joined the team, Beachwood has grown from a tiny, rundown crazy hut with only seven nurses to a fully functioning psychiatric hospital with a staff of eighty, at least. Wick ran Beachwood the way a father would run a household—authoritative, not too loose, not too firm.

As he sat pouring over statistics from three other hospitals in the area, smiling at the fact that his improvement rates bested them all, there was a gentle rapping on the door before the knob twisted and the door swung open.

"Dr. Wick?" Ariadne stood in the doorway, with a plastic orange cup labeled 491. "Cobb refused his pills again. I don't know what to do."

Arthur glanced up at her and shook his head; fear for Ariadne's safety panged though him. Secretly, he wished Ariadne would let him assign her to a different, less psychotic patient, but she would never allow that. "Was he violent with you?" He asked as he pulled a file three inches thick from his desk, also labeled with Cobb's number.

"No, doctor. He wasn't violent, but he did sound angry when he told me he wouldn't take them." She leaned on the door jamb and crossed her arms, and tucked her bangs behind her ear.

"Alright, let me see if I can convince him…" His voice trailed off as he wrote a note in Cobb's file and got up from his desk. Ariadne trailed him to Cobb's room and unlocked the door for him.

"Mr. Cobb, you must take these medications." He sat down in the chair across from his patient. Ariadne stood next to him, her light perfume circulating throughout the room.

"You're just projections," Cobb said, seemingly talking to himself. "Just projections of my imagination. Just projections…"

"No, Mr. Cobb. I am real. Ariadne is real. Your wife, your children, they're all real. Take your medications. Please."

"No! You don't exist! This is all a dream! Why won't you let me wake up?" He smashed his fists on the arms of the chair, flinching at the sharp pain.

"If this were a dream, Mr. Cobb," Arthur said, polite as ever, "then why are you able to feel pain?"

"Pain exists in dreams. Dying just means waking up. It's a kick, a fucking kick! And you're keeping me from waking up."

"Why do you believe this is a dream? Why do you feel the need to attempt suicide? This is completely real. We're trying to help you." Cobb's shoulders shook with anger, but he said nothing to respond to Arthur's accusations. "Mr. Cobb. If you do not take these medications this instant, I will revoke your visitation rights." Ariadne grasped his shoulder, warning him of the increasing volume of his voice.

"No," Cobb huffed. "I won't take them."

Arthur rose from his seat and headed back to his office. Ariadne followed him like a puppy. "I don't know what I'm going to do with him, Ari," he whispered. "If I can't fix this man, it will ruin my reputation."

Generally, the pair were professional at work, but Ariadne could see that he was upset and touched his shoulder as she spoke softly. "But you've helped so many others. How could one patient destroy your whole reputation?"

Arthur slumped in his swivel chair and rubbed a hand over his face. "My boss is counting on me. If I can help Cobb, it will put Beachwood on the map. If I can't…"

"Cobb's breaking. He's starting to doubt his theories. You're getting to him. It's just taking longer than expected." Ariadne caressed his face affectionately, but pulled away soon after, embarrassed by her actions.

Arthur grabbed her dainty hands in his and with a fond smile, pulled her into his lap. "I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes," he whispered as he kissed the tips of her fingers one by one.

"Arthur," Ariadne's eyes darted towards the front of the office, which was just one giant window. "What if someone sees?"

"Oh please. Everyone knows already. Might as well make it official." A grin stretched across Arthur's face as Ariadne laced her fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his face closer. He spun the chair around, Ariadne's back pressed against his mahogany desk.

"Well, well, well, Mr. Professional. No need to be pushy. You'll get what you want soon enough," Ariadne pressed her lips against the side of his jaw.

"You had better close the blinds," Arthur murmured.

* * *

><p><em>Scene IV<em>

Beachwood's patients were all very unique, among the most unique were Cobb and a man named Eames, or so the nurses think. In all honesty, nobody was really sure what his name was, and nobody knew if he knew it either. It was assumed he had some sort of split personality disorder; he went by Eames during the day and Peter Browning at night.

Eames spent most of his time concocting new stories and lies to tell people who talked to him. He had this ability of sorts, to spin very believable lies. Many of the nurses were told not to talk to him if at all possible, after the incident last fall when he told a nurse that her husband was cheating on her with another nurse at the hospital. He came to Beachwood before Cobb, but they had worked together in the same field, perhaps some government or military project. The pair always ranted about limbo and "the good times," but that wasn't very often.

Beachwood's most recent addition, a corrupt chemist named Yusuf, had befriended Eames and they liked to play chess together in the recreation room. Eames nearly always won and when he didn't, he convinced poor Yusuf that he had. Yusuf didn't appear to mind, but then again, he hardly had any mind left.

In a way, Yusuf was drug dealer—mixing liquid drugs and sedatives and selling them to people. Unfortunately, he was the unintelligent type of drug dealer and participated heavily with the drugs he sold. When he arrived at Beachwood, his brain was practically mush.

As the unlikely pair battle on the chessboard, they chat softly about what they'll do when they get out of Beachwood, not that either of them ever will.

"Yusuf, my friend, when I get my ass out of here, I'm heading back home to Mumbai. I miss the women. I was quite the bachelor before I got involved with Mr. Cobb," Eames smiled and shook his head as he nudged a pawn forward. "What about you? Will you get back into business? I'd very much like to try that sedative you talk about so much…"

"Are the women pretty in Mumbai?" Yusuf asked, eagerly pushing a bishop forward. "Check mate!"

"Ah, Yusuf, the women are not _pretty_ in Mumbai. No, they are beautiful." He scanned the board for possible moves and found none, but he was already planning how to confuse Yusuf. "My friend, I'm sorry to say that you are the one in check mate. Remember, you had the black pieces."

"No, Eames, _you_ had the black pieces!" He scratched the back of his head, already baffled. "I swear I had the white pieces…"

"No, no, no! You see, you simply moved the wrong bishop! Yours is right here," Eames said smoothly, motioning to the only black bishop on the board.

"Maybe you are right," Yusuf pondered as he squints his eyes trying to remember the last few moves. "I suppose you're right, Eames," he mumbles and flicks over his king.

"You'll win one day, Yusuf. You're getting better." Eames and Yusuf shook hands, as per usual after a game of chess.

However, an unusual sight just walked through the door. Owner and proprietor of Beachwood, Lee Saito, wearing the finest of Italian suits. Eames didn't see a high class businessman in Saito. He saw just another sucker. He jumped from his seat and met Saito on his way to Arthur's office.

"Mr. Saito! What a pleasure to see you, sir!" Eames grasped Saito's hand in a firm handshake.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" Saito asked, annoyed.

"Oh, probably not. My name is Nathan, I'm a nurse here. It's not my shift," he explained, noticing Saito's confusion when he said nurse. "I'm visiting my friend, Yusuf." Eames turned to wave at Yusuf, who was still glaring at the chess pieces. "We were just playing a game of chess."

"Ah, I see. Well I must be on my way. I have important business to discuss with Dr. Wick. Could you show me where his office is?" Saito straightened his jacket.

"Oh, right down the blue hallway on the left. Can't miss it, he's got a gold plate on his door." Eames was leading him towards the clinical wing, where all Beachwood's highly volatile patients were housed.

Saito thanked him and headed down the hallway as Arthur poked his head out of his office, adjusting his belt. Ariadne slipped past him, but not without a smack on the ass and a wink when she turned around to scowl at him.

"Mr. Saito! Sir, that's the clinical wing," Arthur grabbed his arm. "It's a pleasure to see you. I didn't know you were stopping by." He said as he rolled his sleeves up and led Saito into his office.

* * *

><p><em>Scene V<em>

The walls of Dr. Arthur Wick's office were a warm brown. The degrees he'd earned over many years of school decorated the walls, a large desk consuming most of the space. Saito took this in with a practiced eye as Dr. Wick ushered him into the room away from the noise of patients in the hallway.

Saito sat heavily in the chair across from Wick folding one leg over the other, and tenting his fingers in front of his mouth.

"Dr. Wick, I'm sure you're unaware of the troubles that bring me here today," Saito began, a light Japanese accent marring the words. He loosened the tie that hung around his neck, sighing as he contemplated the best way to deliver awful news. "But let me first start by saying how wonderful it is to see you again, Dr. Wick, and how…pleased I am to see your accomplishments here at Beachwood."

Wick bowed his head in thanks, anxious for the man sitting before him to tell him the real reason for his sudden visit to the facility.

"Arthur, please," he asserted quietly, a meek smile finding its way to his face. Saito grinned in response and nodded his assent. "Arthur, it has come to my attention that a Mr. Robert Fischer wishes to buy out Beachwood as soon as the death of his father, Maurice, grants him with his inheritance."

Arthur dropped his head into his hands with a quiet groan, watching all of his hard work slip through his fingers. He knew that Saito would never lie to him about such a thing, because it would mean the end of his job as well. But it was more than a job to Arthur. He cared about his patients, about their unique conditions and understanding them to help future patients. To help present patients.

In knowing what was going to happen, Arthur understood that the only thing he could do to prevent it was figure out what made Dom and Eames - his two most unique, and well-known patients - tick. Figure out what made them tick, without igniting their fuse.

* * *

><p><em>Scene VI<em>

"Leavin' so soon, Ariadne? What's the rush?" Lawrence, a rather large, burly black nurse asked her as she entered the nurse's lounge. "Another date with Dr. Wick?" He laughed to himself. It was a tremendously loud and warm sound, one that a person couldn't help but be enthused by.

"No!" Ariadne glared at him and crossed her arms. "Not tonight, anyway. He said he'd have to work late with Cobb," she added, unable to help herself. Lawrence was one of those sweet guys that everybody told everything, but it never got repeated—Scout's honor.

He laughed again, much louder this time and Ariadne's face flushed. She cleared her throat in a sad attempt to shut Lawrence up. "Look, can you cover for me? I need you to get Cobb's dinner from the café and make sure he eats. Nash isn't here yet and God only knows when he will be. So unreliable. I don't know why he's… Never mind, just cover for me okay?"

"Sure thing, little girl. I think I'll get Mr. Cobb some fried chicken and mashed potatoes."

"Don't let him handle his silverware!" Ariadne scurried out the door and Lawrence trotted off towards the café, whistling a happy tune.

Lawrence was that stereotypical male nurse—huge, masculine, the guy with the big needle. A lot of the patients were terrified of him and in truth, he was terrified of a lot of the patients. He's been plunger-happy since he started working at Beachwood, but it had gotten better recently.

"Mr. Cobb, I brought your dinner. I was gonna get ya some fried chicken but they didn't have any." His entrance was quiet so he didn't startle volatile Cobb.

"I'm not hungry."

"Aw, c'mon, Mr. Cobb. Everyone loves hospital meatloaf!" Lawrence rested the green dinner tray on the side table.

"Everything you people shove down my throat tastes like dog shit. I'm not hungry. Get out." Cobb's words were like staccato bites into Lawrence; he flinched at each one.

"D-do you need a hug Cobb?"

* * *

><p><em>Scene VII<em>

It was early in the evening, Phillipa and James had already gone to bed. Molly lit two candles in the bathroom—vanilla and jasmine—and turned out the lights as she stepped into the shower. She often pampered herself in this way, but it was more of an anti-stress maneuver. Just as often, she cried until the water was ice cold.

Molly loved her husband dearly. Once he was committed, she never lost faith that he would one day get better. His doctors told her they were making slight improvements, but not enough for him to be released any time soon.

She cried because her children were growing up without a father. She cried because she felt hopeless. But mostly she cried because she knew he would never get better and yet, she continually told herself and her children that he would.

* * *

><p><em>Scene VIII<em>

Dr. Wick marched determinedly towards room 528, a new found will to help Cobb. Lawrence followed the path Wick was traveling, keeping a safe distance from the almost frightening doctor. When they paused outside of Cobb's room, Lawrence hurried to unlock the door for Wick before stepping aside to let him in.

Cobb didn't bother to look up when the doctor stepped in, which Wick took notice of. He also noticed that Cobb hadn't eaten his dinner and appeared not to have moved at all.

Wick took quick, angry strides toward Cobb, his impatience becoming apparent to Lawrence, who stood quietly in the far corner of the room, watching the men warily. Wick slammed the orange medicine cup on the table in front of Cobb, bracing himself by placing his palms down on the table.

"I'm done playing games with you, Cobb," he seethed. Cobb's gaze flickered upwards, his face surprisingly blank. He was not afraid of Dr. Wick. Wick took notice of this and leaned in closer towards Cobb, making Lawrence increasingly nervous. Even he didn't mess with Cobb like that.

"You're going to take the medication I've brought to you, see?" Arthur began, holding the cup up for Cobb to notice. When his expression hardened, Wick continued. "And you're going to realize how incredibly ridiculous you're being. This is not a dream, Cobb, this is reality. If I let you die, that's it. You won't wake up."

When Cobb said nothing, he continued. "How will your wife explain that to your children? How will your children feel when they're old enough to realize that their father committed suicide because he thought he was living in a dream? Wake up, Cobb."

"I'm trying!" Cobb yelled, standing to his full height and just barely overshadowing Wick. Lawrence took notice and made a move towards him, but Wick held up a finger and he stopped.

"I'm trying to wake up, but you won't let me! I'm trapped inside my brain and it's telling me that I'm not dreaming, but I am! I need to die so I can get back to my wife and my children, I need to see them, to hold them and know that they're okay. They're alive up there, without me. They need me."

"You're right Cobb," Arthur started, backing up towards Lawrence as an idea sprang to mind. "They do need you. They need you, right now, while you're playing silly games about a top that you need to keep spinning. It's all in your mind, Cobb."

Cobb began yelling incoherently as Wick and Lawrence left the room. Wick turned to Lawrence, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I need you to bring him to the conference room as soon as possible."

Lawrence nodded and stepped back inside room 528 as Wick retreated to his office, his phone off the cradle before he had even sat down.

"Hello?" the lilting voice answered.

"Molly, it's Arthur over at Beachwood, I'm sorry to call you so late in the evening."

Across town, Molly's heart skipped a beat and she closed the door to her daughter's room softly behind her.

"It's no problem at all, Dr. Wick, is there anything I can help you with?"

Arthur breathed out a laugh at her silly insistence to call him Dr. Wick, immediately sobering up as he fingered the metal object perched at the corner of his desk.

"Yes, Molly, I think there is. How quickly can you be here?"

Molly's breath hitched as she chocked out, "I'm on my way."

Wick cradled the phone and stood, pocketing the object as he dashed out of his office towards the conference room where Lawrence stood, watching Cobb nervously. Cobb's incessant rambling had increased ten-fold and Lawrence found his fingers itching towards the sedative filled syringe in his pocket.

Wick crashed through the door and Lawrence withdrew his hand quickly from his pocket, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Arthur took the seat opposite Cobb taking a moment to catch his breath before he began.

The object that took up virtually no space in his pocket suddenly seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Wick cleared his throat and leaned forward towards Cobb, but before he could start speaking, there was a knock on the door. He turned to Lawrence in confusion who simply shrugged. He moved to open the door, but it swung open before he could reach it.

Ariadne poked her head around, taking in the scene before her. She pushed the door open further and Molly Cobb stepped inside, her heart breaking as she took in the sight of her husband.

"I thought you left already," Wick said, startled.

Ariadne shrugged. "I was on my way out and found Mrs. Cobb in your office. She told me she was here to see you, so I thought I'd bring her to you."

"Yes, yes, of course," Arthur stood and ushered Molly to a seat giving Ariadne a soft smile and wink as she turned to leave.

"I'll see you at home," she mouthed to him with a smile as she closed the door behind her.

Arthur reclaimed his seat next to Molly, quietly exchanging pleasantries while Cobb paid them no mind whatsoever. Arthur slowly withdrew the silver top that haunted Cobb from his pocket and placed it in Molly's hand.

"Show him," was all Arthur said, but it was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She nodded slowly and stood, walking to stand beside Cobb before crouching down, resting her folded arms on the table.

"Don't touch me," Cobb warned darkly when she made a motion to stroke his arm.

"Dom, it's me," she whispered sadly. His eyes, blank yet cold met hers.

"I know who you are. You're trying to make me believe that you're real-"

"Now you listen to me, Dom Cobb. I am real, you are real, everyone in this place is real, this place is real. It's your own fault that you're in this predicament, because you couldn't leave well enough alone. You needed another world, because reality just wasn't enough for you. You have no one but yourself to blame, Dom."

Cobb shook his head angrily, slamming a fist on the table in front of him. "No, no! You're not real!"

Molly slammed her hand down on the table, the metal top clattering noisily. She removed her hand and gestured wildly at the top. "Would you like me to prove it to you Dom? Because I swear to God, I will."

Cobb's shoved away from the table, away from the top that swung from side to side.

"Where did you get that?" he yelled, stalking towards Molly.

Lawrence moved towards his pocket again, but with a near imperceptible shake of the head from Arthur, he retreated towards the corner again, enraptured by the pair.

"Where did I get it?" she asked incredulously. "Dom, did you forget that we're not in a dream? This is real and I'm going to prove it to you."

Arthur motioned Lawrence forward and he quickly restrained Dom as Molly flicked her wrist, sending the top spinning.

"Molly, no!" Dom cried, struggling against the strong arms holding him, but unable to look away from the top.

"This isn't a dream, Dom. I'm real. Please, please, you have to know that I'm real. Your children, Dom, our children, they miss you."

As tears leaked slowly from their eyes, the top slowly began to waiver and then fell, as did Cobb, sinking to the ground as his fictional reality shattered around him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading! This was a school project and Megan said, "Hey, why don't we post this on FF?"  
>Well done, Megan.<br>We will post an Epi. sooooon. Promise.


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